


When Everything Changed

by AParisianShakespearean



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Awkward Cullen, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mages and Templars, Templar Cullen, pinning, templar! Cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParisianShakespearean/pseuds/AParisianShakespearean
Summary: Later, bitterly he would laugh as he remembered, because he woke up that morning and everything was as it should be. It was right. He knew his duty. He knew. Yet when he saw this woman, this mage, appear for the first time, fire pooling in her palm, he forgot everything until there was only her.In which DA2 era Cullen has an encounter he won't forget anytime soon.





	When Everything Changed

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another tumblr prompt given to me ;p

The morning before everything changed, he woke up, and everything made sense. Everything was all right in the world. Everything was where it should be.

It was a nightmare that drew him from the fade, though that was to be expected. They would never allude him. At the very least his rank allowed him private quarters, and only the walls of his room in the Gallows bore witness to his cries. Yet he shook the nightmare of Uldred and Kinloch away, washed, and donned his uniform as ceremoniously as he always did. He did so because it was what he had to do. What he would always have to do, to make the world safe. He caught a glimpse of the insignia engraved in his breastplate before he left.

This was his sacred duty.

Meredith had called him into her office as well. Nothing unusual. _There’s word of an apostate in the Wounded Coast. If they resist, kill them. Take Samson with you._

They always resist, Samson said before they departed, though Cullen knew it was what Samson always told Meredith when he came back from a mission.

They arrived at the Coast to the cave. Samson went one way, Cullen the other. It wasn’t wise to split up but Samson had insisted. There was only one, he said. One would be easy enough. So Cullen traversed through the darkness, sword and shield in hand. Someone was there, that was abundantly clear. The torches lit the way, and when he turned, he saw the light of a fire. It seemed whoever this apostate was, they wanted to be found. He heard voices, whispers of templars that may find them, coming from a voice distinctly feminine. More than one, he realized, and she didn’t know how right she was about that fact.

He would dispel the area and tell them to surrender. It was the least he could do before Samson came, he knew that man wouldn’t be as merciful.

Later, bitterly he would laugh as he remembered, because he woke up that morning and he knew his duty. He knew. Yet when he saw this woman, this mage appear for the first time, fire pooling in her palm, he forgot everything until there was only her.

Dumbstruck he stared. It couldn’t…it couldn’t really be…

Cliodna?

It was impossible. The woman from the book of stories his mother used to put him to bed with couldn’t really come to life from the page, be this woman no less. Not her, not this mage…

But Maker’s breath she was looking at him with all the same determination as Cliodna, the woman who had searched the lowlands, looking for her lover.What did this woman search for? Freedom perhaps, it was what all apostates wanted, and exactly what they couldn’t have.

They stared, neither one so much as breathing in this space that they created, the space where the apostate and templar lay in wait, something more than distrust and blind hatred tangible in the air. Perhaps, he thought, it was fascination, or at least a mutual unwillingness to strike. However, just as Cullen kept his sword drawn and shield ready, the fire kept pulling in her hands, though the glow was growing dimmer and dimmer.

The fire may have dimmed in her palm, but in her eyes, blue as the deepest sea, grew brighter. Such a contradiction that shouldn’t even have been possible: fire in the sea of blue. Yet there it was.

Her hair was a dark brown, long and to her back, loose and unruly. She wore the standard circle robe, blue and unshapely as it was, though upon further inspection Cullen could see she filled out the robe rather well. She was rather tall, and her hips were well defined, as was her…

What was he doing? Maker what was he doing? He should have dispelled her. If Samson had found her first he would have killed her for daring to draw fire upon him.  
Yet Cullen was struck with something. Something that made his heart pound a million beats. He woke up that morning, and he knew his duty. He knew that if a mage ever dared to reign fire upon him, even so much as have it in their palms, ready to attack, the would have to slay them. When Cullen woke up that morning, he would have never known he would see this woman, mage, being that so perfectly emulated Cliodna, and allow his sacred duty to fall to the wayside.

He would not strike her.

Slowly, he sheathed his sword. Slowly in turn, the fire in the woman’s hand died. The torch nearby illuminated her face however, the curve of her jawline, the upward flex of her right eyebrow, the quizzical expression.

“Who are you?” she breathed, her voice a deep contralto.

“My name is Cullen,” he said, surprising himself. “I’m…I’m a templar.”

A look crossed her face, one that distinctly said, _Really stupid_? At least she gave him the curtesy not to say anything. Instead she crossed her arms, and offered him her name.

Her name was Lydia.

“Lydia,” he repeated, the name sounding strange on his tongue. “It…you should…”

Dammit, what was he doing? What was he…?

“Listen, I don’t know why you didn’t strike, but—"

“Just go.”

Once he said it he could not take it back. What surprised him though, was how much he didn’t want to take it back.

To the Maker and Andraste he did not wish to take it back.

She stared, mouth agape. “What? You’re not…”

“Go,” he commanded. “Go before my companion arrives. If you flee now he won’t find you and you’ll live.”

She blinked, unbelieving. “I don’t—why are you sparing me?”

“Go!”

She disappeared to the back, and before he could shout at her she was going the wrong way she emerged with two others, a man and a female elf, the two of them barely so much as glancing at him as they darted out.

She remained, staring into his soul.

“Thank you,” she said, and then as quickly as his eyes met the sea blue of hers, she was gone again.

Cullen waited for Samson to find him. “Well?” the other templar demanded.

Cullen motioned to the dying embers of the fire. “Gone,” he said, and as Cullen walked the Wounded Coast, he prayed he would not find her.

 

* * *

 

Meredith told him not to fail again when they returned, and when she left him, Cullen laughed bitterly.

He never would have suspected, when he woke up that morning, how that woman, Lydia, the woman who reminded him of Cliodna would…

No, he didn’t actually…

Did he?

He prayed that night. He prayed the Maker would forgive him.

 

* * *

 

He was at Haven, scanning the requisition requests when he saw her, the woman with long, dark hair and blue eyes. The woman that reminded him of Cliodna.  
He felt his heart beat a million beats, he felt the world disappear until there was only her.

She was working with Sabine and the other healers, and he wondered how long it would take her to recognize him. Maybe it was ridiculous of him, self-centered even to think she would recognize him.

She came to him, soon after though. She was the one they sent to deliver the potions to his tent. Mouth agape, she stared wide eyed.

Well, she did remember.

“You’re…I remember you,” she stated, almost dropping the elfroot potions to the floor. “You were the templar in the cave in Kirkwall.”

“I’m not a templar anymore,” he replied, feeling the reddening of his cheeks.

“I…I can see that,” she replied, assessing his new attire, raising her eyebrows in approval. “That day. Why did you spare me?”

He wondered if she would bring that up again. A thousand reasons he admitted to himself, though not to her, and perhaps a thousand more he didn’t dare to admit even to himself. In truth he only knew the biggest reason. It was because she made him remember. For once, he looked at someone and didn’t remember the bad from his past. Only the good. He didn’t think that would ever be possible.

She made it possible, this woman, radiant, and almost like the sun as she stood in his tent. He felt himself smile, for the first time since this all began.

Did he save her that day, because he found her beautiful?

Skin kissed by the sun. Luxuriant dark hair. Eyes the deepest blue. Earnest and real. Perhaps the realest thing he had ever seen.

The morning he woke up, the morning he met her, he didn’t know she would never leave his thoughts.

He knew the answer to his previous question.

“I…I don’t know,” he said instead. “I just thought…”

“Did you think I was pretty?”

“I…no,” he stammered, feeling caught. “I mean…Oh maker, it’s not that you aren’t, but—”

She laughed, and he thought that was the most adorable sound he had ever heard. “I’m only teasing,” she said.

“Why didn’t you attack me?” he asked in turn. “You had a ball of fire ready.”

“I guess I didn’t want to,” she replied. “You looked…you looked sad that day. I don’t know. you didn’t even look like you wanted to attack.”

Maker’s breath, was she going to see right through him? “I guess I was sad,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

The silence that came between them was comfortable, as the two shared the same space. Not as a mage and templar this time. This time, they were only a man and a woman.

“You’re not a templar anymore,” she eventually said, breaking the silence. “Even though I’m still a mage. But here at least,in the Inquisition, I can help. I promise I won’t tease you anymore. I mean, only if you want it. Oh Maker…” she blushed an angry red, and he was struck by how sweet the pop of pink looked on her cheeks. “I should go now anyway,” she garbled. “Sabine needs help. I’ll see you soon Commander Cullen.”

She left after that, leaving the smell of jasmine in his tent. And as he smiled like a great full, Cullen found himself thinking, that maybe, just perhaps, he would allow her to tease him anytime she wanted.


End file.
